Iris and the Secret Library

by Shu Daizi

  And so did Iris. Her hand finally ran white-hot fingernail lines over her hip, and crept under her. This was one of her favorite positions to play with herself, because she could tighten her legs together so that she could barely get her hand in the right place, but now she was fighting a losing battle. She was worked up so powerfully that she squeaked out an animal grunt the second her fingers came in contact with her labia. She was determined to make it to the end of the chapter, but her hand wasn’t paying attention.

  She arched her butt up into the air, almost as if trying to break contact with her disobedient fingers. Now on her knees, her legs spread open then closed tight again. One finger slipped inside her, so easily, had she ever been so wet before? This brought her palm down onto her clit, and she rocked hard.

  Her head slammed down onto the bed, narrowly missing the keyboard of her laptop. But she had to bring it up to keep reading. The witch was on the cold tile floor of the shower room, and the blonde girl was eating her out.

  Iris’s mind spun. She was utterly lost now. She’d seen this in so many videos, but reading about it was totally different. She felt she was the witch with that blonde girl between her thighs, teasing her lips and licking up and down before rising higher. There was no controlling her hand, which pulled back out of her to strum on her clit. It pounded back down, thrusting two, three fingers back inside, then mashed her palm into her mons.

  The witch in the story was blurred in Iris’s mind. She was on the ground, then on top of the other girl with another girl behind her, then she was biting down on a nipple, gently but with purpose.

  But all that started to come undone for Iris. Finally, she couldn’t help but drop her head to the bed again, focusing on the growing heat within her. Her hand that had been scrolling through the story slipped under her to work her nipples again, just like what that girl in the story must have been feeling. Hard pinching, each pinch building her up, pulling these wild noises out of her throat.

  Her entire body started to shudder, but it was her legs that truly lost control. They shot out and slammed her down flat on the mattress again. But her trembling fingers never slacked on her, in her.

  She cried out in raw triumph into a pillow as the waves of bliss pulsed through her. They threw her to her side and she curled up into a ball. The hand on her breast stayed there, now caressing, massaging kindly. The hand that had been so disobedient couldn’t find a place. She slapped her thigh, feeling the wetness along with the sharp pain. Then she brought it to her chin, experimentally running a line back and forth on her jaw before delicately dipping a finger into her mouth.

  What in the hell was that? She’s never felt so wild, so out of control. But more important in her mind right then was that she had never had an orgasm like that before, alone or with someone else. Her entire body was still humming with the energy. And did she just lick herself off her finger? It tasted okay. She wondered if all girls tasted the same.

  She finished the entire story that night, bringing herself to a couple more solid orgasms, but nothing as earth-shaking as that first one. Most of the time, she was just casually stroking herself, getting more and more into the thin plot and two-dimensional characters. It wasn’t good literature, but it was so very good.

  2.

  Iris was a bit scattered for the rest of the summer class. She wasn’t getting much sleep anymore. There were so many other stories to read, and she was wringing herself out every night. She started to get headaches before realizing that she was dehydrated.

  It was clear to her that she was getting obsessed, but with everything else falling apart in her world, this was one thing, one blissful wonderful thing, that she could control. And if she was going to have to go back on her hands and knees – she had found a really good story about that, she remembered archly – if she was going to have to go back on her hands and knees to her parents, well, maybe that was just fate. But she was going to enjoy what she could while she could.

  But it turned out that her fatalism wasn’t warranted.

  It was about two weeks after she applied for the strange Bright Hall grant. She was in the common office with about a dozen other grad students. She didn’t really like being in the room with everyone, but that’s where the printers and the only reliable internet were. And it wasn’t like anyone bothered her anyway. She was never part of the in-crowd, never invited to the lunches they tried to hide from her. But now it was even more obvious. They knew she was going to have to leave, and like a herd abandoning a sick gazelle, they avoided her. They saw her become wearier, slower, and even less engaged, and they just assumed that’s what someone who was giving up looked like.

  But that day, she was checking her email and someone heard her give out a tight squeak. He was startled enough that he spun his chair around to look at her. She was staring in shock at the screen. Over her shoulder he could see the image of a letterhead at the top of the email: “Bright Hall Academy.”

  She didn’t know why, but she panicked. She closed the laptop and put it in her bag. Without a word she stood up and started to leave. She saw now that it was not just that one guy, but half the office looking at her. Her impulse was to tell them. She wanted someone to tell. She wanted them to be happy for her. She wanted them to be jealous of her. She wanted some kind of reaction.

  But she tamped that feeling down. She left, feeling strangely ashamed.

  She also needed a quiet place to read the email. She had only seen the first line or two. Maybe she misread it?

  The library was no good. Even during the summer, it was a mess during the day. That didn’t leave many options for privacy. Then she remembered the old faculty lounge. She had seen it when she first arrived and was scouting everything out. Technically, grad students weren’t supposed to go there, but it was always empty.

  She felt a little spark of excitement. She would go where she wasn’t supposed to go. What would they do, throw her out?

  It was only a few minutes’ walk and she opened the heavy wooden door. Just like when she has seen it before, it was empty. But she hadn’t really appreciated how beautiful it was. Everything was carved dark wood and heavy fabric in the school colors. And there were bookshelves on every spare vertical space, full of nice impressive-looking leather-bound books.

  Iris walked slowly in, feeling every bit like an interloper, but she did enjoy the thrill of trespassing. She plopped herself down in a big padded chair and pulled up a low side table.

  She took out and opened up her heavy battered laptop, which slowly spun back up to life. As expected, the moment it wasn’t plugged in, the battery drained so fast she could nearly watch the numbers go down. And she didn’t see any outlets. She would have to read fast.

  She hadn’t misread the email. They were delighted to inform... many exceptional candidates... her language ability in particular... would welcome her at her earliest convenience to join the Bright Hall family.

  Well, that last part was a bit strange, but everything else looked legit. The stipend was actually more than originally posted. It was more than she got when she was the golden child with a full ride. She was going to be able to live pretty well.

  But where? She had done a little bit of research when she sent in the application, but she hadn’t really been paying that much attention. So, she went back to the internet. Their website was clear enough in some ways, but raised questions.

  The Bright Hall Academy is located in the town of Bright Hall on a beautiful island in the Pacific Northwest. In the tradition of scholarship removed from the distraction of large cities, our location is deliberately remote, so that we can provide the quiet and peace of mind that promotes outstanding academic and personal success. This location is key to our identity and to our mission in training outstanding, independent, disciplined women.

  Our academic mission is as unique as our location. We provide a combination of the traditional boarding school experience with a post-secondary core of coursework, designed specif
ically for students who choose not to go to college or university after high school. While our classes are transferable, and most of our students do go on to great academic success at colleges and universities around the nation, we like to think that the methods, content, and personal care students receive at Bright Hall are far superior to what students often find elsewhere, with their packed classes, uninterested professors, and lack of cohesion.

  Despite our distance from large cities, there is no reason to be concerned about leaving your children in our hands. Our people are first rate, from the principal and Board of Directors down to each individual teacher and staff member. The campus has all the state-of-the-art facilities you might find at any top-ranked university including cozy dorms, an excellent dining hall, science labs, and Olympic-standard athletics equipment.

  The Town of Bright Hall and the surrounding area are themselves excellent reasons to attend. It is a tight-knit community built on the foundations of our school, the small hospital, and the tourism industry that supports those who come to enjoy the lovely mountain trails, the pristine white-sand beach and the shopping district, including a vibrant arts community. And of course, there is also the brand-new and already world-famous Bright Hall Spa, designed and operated by the Takashima family.

  The sales pitch went on for a good while, playing up the school for potential students. It was a women’s only academy, but Iris didn’t see any mention of graduate students or any program designed for them at all. In fact, it looked like they didn’t even offer any degrees at all, only transferable coursework. That didn’t seem very promising.

  The photos looked gorgeous though. There were pictures of the surrounding mountains and the beach, and the spa was just incredible. She could just imagine marinating herself there forever. Maybe they would let her bring books inside.

  Her computer gave a beep, warning that the battery was just about done, and she started to pack up. But right as she put it in her bag, the door slammed open and someone slapped at the light switch, plunging the room into semi-darkness. She hopped up and spun around to look at the door, but her eyes didn’t adjust very quickly to the dark.

  There were two figures struggling as they came in.

  Iris thought it might be a fight, but quickly rethought.

  She heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing.

  Her eyes now seeing more clearly, she could tell one form was more masculine, and it pushed a more slender form back against one of the bookcases.

  “C’mon, we’ve got to be quick.” A feminine, almost squeaky voice. She was panting gently and her voice was interrupted with a grunt when the man pushed her back against the bookcase again.

  “We’ve got time. As long as the lights are off, no one ever comes in here.”

  “Oh, and how many girls have you brought in here then?”

  Her voice dissolved in laughter as he dove to her neck with sloppy kisses and tickled her waist.

  Iris was struck dumb. She was a deer in the headlights, but she was only partially shocked by the display. She had seen students making out just about everywhere on campus. This looked a little more intense than what she had seen before, but what really shook her was that it was almost exactly the scene that she had read the night before.

  It was in an otherwise mediocre story, but she had already come a couple times, so she was just reading one more story to take the edge off. And it was almost identical to what was going on right in front of her.

  There was a boy and girl that had just gotten together at school, and they couldn’t go to their dorms because of roommates, so they were always looking for places to hook up on campus. They broke into a library office – which is exactly what this room looked like – and he slammed her up against the wall and started to strip her.

  The girl was wearing a pastel polo, and in a flash, the man pulled it up. She raised her hands in the air, and he trapped her arms above her head, leaving her face covered by the shirt. Then with one hand he started tickling her again.

  Just like the story. Her laughter was clear and almost musical, and the way she shook under his attack made her breasts – covered by a simple white bra – shake in a way that Iris just couldn’t take her eyes off.

  Then the shirt came all the way off and the girl lifted her leg to get under her skirt. They kept kissing as she shimmied her hips and dropped her panties down around her ankles.

  Then Iris’s bag fell over.

  Everyone froze.

  “What the hell?” The guy twisted his head, but didn’t let go of the girl.

  “Ohmygod, I am so sorry. I was in here before and... but...” Iris ran out of steam. She couldn’t look away from the girl. She looked so cute. She was like a little stereotypical American cheerleader. Blonde hair flowing down low, breasts that made Iris envious, but there was a stronger feeling than envy bubbling up in her. She looked shaken in such a sensual way. Her top was still half-hanging on her arm and her skirt was hiked up, showing her thigh up so very high.

  “Well? Get out of here, okay?” The boy looked more frustrated than angry now. There was nothing possibly threatening about this short Asian girl.

  That shocked Iris out of her daze. She shot a glance to the boy, then to the girl.

  Was she smiling at her? Surely, she saw the way Iris had been leering.

  She shook her head and mumbled another apology. She grabbed her bag and nearly sprinted out the door. As she sped down the hallway, she could hear the girl laughing again. It might have been the sexiest thing she had ever heard.

  That scene certainly didn’t help her focus on her teaching. She put off replying to the email, but she knew she was going to accept. She had no other options. That make her even less enthusiastic in her job. The university had basically given up on her, and so she didn’t feel any real loyalty to pay back.

  When she did reply to accept the offer, she still had so many questions. Would this be a continuation of graduate school or simply outside research? What exactly would she be doing with all those erotic books? Were there other students her age there, or was it just going to be her and a campus full of giggling teenagers?

  But she hung on, and pushed through. The summer ended and even though she still hadn’t got a clear answer from the University if they were going to formally end her enrollment or only give her a year-long break, she left campus and headed to the middle of nowhere and her new adventure.

  There were no going away parties, no acknowledgement of her leaving. Just like before, the other students seemed to want to avoid being contaminated by her bad luck, and the professors didn’t have anything invested in her, so they didn’t care. She did get a very nice email from one woman from another department who she didn’t really think she knew, but the email was genuine and kind, so she didn’t delete it.

  Because Bright Hall was so far from anything, the best way of getting there was to take a bus. Iris had never taken a long-haul bus, and it was just as awful as she had expected. She wanted to use the time to try and read up more about Bright Hall, but the bus’s advertised wifi was barely enough to read texts out there in the land of no cell towers.

  She was still puzzled about the school. Over the end of the summer she did a good deal of snooping online, looking through the social media of students and the backgrounds of the teachers. The social media was generally what you would expect from young college students, but there was one weird thing: she never found any photos from parties, nothing with students going crazy over a hard weekend. It’s not like Iris was looking to get into the party scene, but it was strange not to see that part of campus life on personal social media.

  And the photos that were there were pretty tame. There were a lot of friends studying and hanging out around campus or hiking up in the mountains, but that’s about it. There were some pictures from a swim meet, and those were sexy, but only because of the suits the women were wearing. On campus, everyone wore a fairly severe, but well-tailored uniform, and that gave a
further sense of dourness.

  It seemed very possible that she was going to spend a year in a very repressed school. That didn’t seem too bad. It’s not like she was expecting to find a boyfriend on a one-year stint at a women only college. And besides, as long as the internet worked and they sold batteries at the campus store, she would be able to get by just fine, especially now that she was an expert at finding just the right story for her nightly mood.

  But there was one other thing that nagged at the back of her mind. When she looked up the teachers at Bright Hall, they all had fairly basic biographies, but none had a listing of publications or research specialties. She was wondering who she would be working with, but there was no clue as to who these people actually were. Not for the first time, her overworked brain thought that this might be an elaborate trap to lure in poor graduate students in some half-baked horror movie.

  The one thing that the bus was good for was rocking her to sleep. After they stopped for dinner, they turned out the lights and drew little curtains on the windows. The rhythmic thump thump thump of the wheels on the road proved to be hypnotic, and Iris drifted off to sleep, wondering what the campus would look like in the morning.

  Sometime in the middle of the night she felt herself drift up into consciousness. Someone was talking? Whispering? Iris was coiled in a comfortable little ball, so she didn’t want to sit up and stretch. She just opened her eyes and looked around, trying to find out where the whispers were coming from.

  It didn’t take much. The bus was almost completely silent except for a low murmur of music from way up where the driver was and a gentle snoring from a couple rows behind her.

  But there was also whispering and even an occasional giggle. It was coming from across the aisle and back a row. Iris was peeved that they woke her up. They were clearly trying to be quiet, but somehow the lisping whispers carried to her ear more than if they had been talking normally in a low voice.